


Fair is Fair

by Emiscopi



Category: Hunger Games Series - All Media Types, Hunger Games Trilogy - Suzanne Collins
Genre: Canon Compliant, F/M, Kitchen Sex, Outdoor Sex, Post-Mockingjay, Pre-Epilogue Mockingjay, Smut, everlark
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-17
Updated: 2020-07-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:27:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22777102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Emiscopi/pseuds/Emiscopi
Summary: Katniss and Peeta get intimate in each other's perspective worlds.
Relationships: Katniss Everdeen/Peeta Mellark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 95





	1. Flour

Theres a soft thumping as I enter the house. I place my empty game bag, shoes and jacket in the closet. The noise is coming from the kitchen. I creep slowly along the hall as I would when I know there’s a creature ahead of me but don’t know if its prey or predator. I open the kitchen door bathed in warm light. His muscles are taught and his face focused as he forcibly kneads the bread dough. I stare at Peeta, still unsure if its a predator before me.

Yesterday was a bad day. Remnants of his highjacking burst forth. Luckily Haymitch had been around and told me to flee while Peeta went on his rampage. I spent the whole day in the woods hunting and angry that I couldn’t calm him down nor that I knew how. I stayed out much later than I normally would, with the moon high in the sky. When I returned home he wasn’t there. I awoke from my nightmares screaming but his arms weren’t there to lull me back to sleep. So I just stayed awake till dawn and then went to town to give out my kills from yesterday.

Coming home I wasn’t sure what I’d find. There’s a brief moment of relief that he’s here but then I realize I can’t tell what he’s thinking because he’s staring so intently at his work.

“Hey,” I say softly. He looks up, his stare is intense and passionate but the Capitol is gone from his eyes. He’s Peeta, my Peeta again. He immediately begins to knead again.

“Hey,” he says gruffly. He’s angry with himself for losing control yesterday. I cross over to him, a million things I want to say to comfort him but they just seem so insincere and useless. I’m not the one for words he is. So I gently put my hand on his arm. I watch his large hands roughly knead the dough and then watch him. His face is so full of intensity and his body’s powerful movements remind me of what he looks like when he makes love to me.

Do I look like that when we make love? Watching his hands, his face and his body I suddenly needed to feel the way he was feeling. I put my hand over one of his, he stills unsure what I’m going to do next: console him? Berate him?

But I simply ask. “Show me?” Then slip between his arms. I can feel rather than hear him sniff my hair and sigh. I think we both feel just a tiny bit better with me protected by his strong arms on either side of me. He leans against me to grab a bowl from the counter, his chest pressing up against my back.

“First flour your hands” he says gently, placing the bowl in front of me. I dip my hands in the bowl, dusting my hands with the soft powder. He sprinkles more flour on the counter’s surface. After putting the bowl back his hands go back to the dough.

“Then with the heel of your hand hand you punch into the dough, turning and folding as you go,” he says demonstrating it s few times.

“Like this?” I begin to knead it with my hands, but my fingers keep getting caught on the sticky dough. The smooth fluid motions looked so easy when Peeta did it.

“More like this,” he places his strong hands over mine and begins to knead the dough. After a moment, I slip my hands out, because they’re just getting in the way. His arm muscles tense around me with every push and pull movement. The kitchen is warm from the oven. I play with the flour on the countertop letting his body rock against the back of mine. I lean my head against his shoulder and gently reach up one one my floured hands to caress his neck. He stops his kneading gripping the dough tightly.

I twist around to face him. His eyes are still intense, but there’s a softness to them now and dare I say sadness? I gently sweep his blond curls off his forehead and leave a smear of flour. I’m not sure, but the tension filled moment combined with the accidental flouring of his face make me snort in laughter. Then I see half his neck is also covered in flour from when I touched it moments before. He looks at me confused.

“I’m sorry,” I giggle, “I seem to have made a mess of you” I hold up my floured hands. I can feel his hands moving behind me but its not until his taps my nose with a finger that he’s recovered his own hands with flour.

“Oops,” he whispers.

“Fair is fair I guess,” I breathe. Then his hands are cupping my face and kissing me passionately. My arms fling themselves around his neck, one hand in his hair. Our tongues meet in a fiery dance. At some point his hands leave my face, glide down my arms and settle at my waist. His head slightly pulled away but I trap his lower lip sucking him back to me. Our kiss is sloppy but it elicits a moan from deep inside my chest. Peeta moves his lips across my cheek until he settles at my ear, suckling the nub. I open my eyes for a moment and see my reflection in the window. I can’t see my body because his tall muscular one covers mine. But my arms are clinging to him for life and my face seems to have a pale white beard from where his floured hands held me. I close my eyes to the silly image, not wanting to pulled from this fit of passion.

I wrap one of my legs around his good leg, gently rubbing my foot up and down his calf. Eventually my whole body is grinding against his. And he begins to rock fervently against me. I pull his head up from my neck and kiss him on the lips. We give one look at each other, one pause to give the other one the time to say stop but neither of us do. Our lips crash together together and I can feel him start to unbutton my pants. Once the zippers down I hook my thumbs around my underwear and sides of my trousers and awkwardly pull them down. I get them just past my knees before I’m kissing him again. As I’m kicking/shimming off the pants I’m thanking myself for taking off my shoes earlier. Once my right foot is finally free, I stand still, bare from the waist down.

Peeta lifts me by the waist and sits me on the counter. The cold surface sends a chill up my spine but I don’t care because his body will keep me warm. As he begins to clutch my face again kissing away the outside world, I unbutton his pants and pull them down with his boxers. They don’t go all the way down, getting caught mid thigh on his prosthetic leg. But we don’t need his pants all the way off for what we’re about to do.

His erection springs forth and I gently pump it up and down. As I spread my legs, he pulls me to the edge of the counter by the hips. Peeta rests his head against mine as I guide him into my center. We both moan at the sensation.

There’s just a moment’s pause then he’s ramming into me with reckless abandon. My legs lock around his waist. He holds onto my hips for support but I touch him everywhere. The only thoughts in my head are I need more of Peeta. My hands are in his hair, they’re running over his chest, they’re rubbing his back, they’re clutching his broad shoulders, they’re squeezing his butt urging him to go in deeper.

I try to kiss the base of his neck to lick and suck at it the way he likes but I’m moaning to much to make a strong enough effort. All I can hear are occasional groans coming between his breathy pants. All I can see is a blurry sweaty vision of where his strong neck meets his broad shoulder. All I can feel is the endless ramp up to sweet, sweet bliss as he continues to thrust into me.

He tenses slightly when I make a particularly load moan. Then his reaches down and starts playing with my nub. I bite down on his shoulder from the sensation and feel his bottom and thighs tense again between my legs.

That’s when I realize he’s waiting for me. He’s holding out as long as he can. Even now, he’s always taking care of me, making sure I finish. How tired and stressed he must be from yesterday?

“It’s okay Peeta,” I breathe, “Let go.” He looks at me for a moment. I nod my assent and kiss him with all my might. With a few more pumps, he’s clutching me close and sputtering my name.

I feel his warm seed filling me, a nice sensation but not as satisfying now that my own arousal is starting to diminish. He pulls out slowly, still holding me close. I cradle his head as it rests on my shoulder and gently brush my fingers through his hair. After a moment, he pulls back and I can tell by the look on his face he wants to talk about it: this and yesterday. But I hush him with a gentle kiss and promise that we’ll talk about it later. He just nods and helps me off the counter.

There, in the flour, are the imprints of our love making. I dust off my bottom to no avail. The flour is everywhere: the counter, the floor, our clothes, our bodies.

“Help me clean this off?” I ask reaching out my hand. He nods grabbing my hand and follows me to the bathroom.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

A week or two later, after we talked about everything and life began to be somewhat normal, we were in his studio with Haymitch. We’re looking through his new paintings, most still cause me anguish because they’re of our times in the arenas and the Capitol. I’m about to excuse myself when Haymitch catches my attention.

“I see you’re going abstract now,” Haymitch sneered, “what is it?” I look at the painting of powdered white swirls. An abstract painting is very odd for Peeta since he has the annoying ability to make things look exactly how they were in a particular moment. Then I recognize the pattern. It’s from our flour tryst, what we left on the countertop. I gasp and look at Peeta, whose been staring at me waiting to see if I’ll recognize it. He smirks at me as I turn beet red then gives some lame explanation how its just a study of the color white and not actually anything at all.

Behind Haymitch, I stare daggers at him, planning all the ways I’ll kill him for this. He keeps talking to our mentor trying not to laugh at my expression.


	2. Forest

We sit by the fire, our bread and cheese on skewers. I’m as content as I think I could possibly ever be now, cuddled next to the man I love.

“Hey Katniss?” Peeta kisses my neck.

“Mm?” I respond.

“Could I join you in the woods tomorrow?” I stare at the fire and watch the cheese melt off my bread.

“In the woods?” I repeat.

“I mean you don’t need to hunt tomorrow do you?” He asks as if this clears up his intentions.

“No, I suppose not,” I answer slowly, “but if I can’t hunt why should I go?”

“Oh I was just thinking about our time in the kitchen,” he says, “how it felt like you were becoming a part of my world: bread and all and that I’d like to be a part of yours. Not to stay, of course, but to be invited in?”

The cheese has almost completely melted off my cube of bread and it’s starting to burn. He covers my hand holding the skewer and pulls the bread out of the flame.

“You could show me one of your favorite hunting spots. I could pack a picnic. We could just spend the day in the woods with nothing to do but to stay away from the outside world.” He kisses my shoulder. I turn to look at him and there’s a gleam in his eye that says we’ll do a lot more than just picnic.

“I mean I let you into my world, you can show me yours. Fair is fair.” He winks at me. I roll my eyes but agree.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The next morning, we’re preparing to head out. I still bring my bow and arrows because it wouldn’t feel right to be in the woods without them. Peeta puts the last remaining items into a basket and grabs a blanket then we head out the door.

I have a new spot in the woods now. The rock gives me too many painful reminders of Gale, so I rarely go there now. This new spot is further out though, and while I can get there quickly and silently. It takes Peeta twice as long on on his prosthetic leg. I have to keep reminding myself that I’m not actually hunting today so its okay for him to be making so much noise and scaring away all the animals.

By the time we reach my spot, its near noon and Peeta is exhausted. He leans against a tree, catching his breathe, the basket falls to his feet. He weakly holds up the blanket.I take it, trying not to laugh at his predicament.

“You know, I thought you’d be in better shape,” I smirk, “I mean the amount of flour you lift everyday, our nearly daily bedroom cardio, you were after all the victor of two hunger ga-“ I falter as my last statement. We don’t need to talk about that now and I definitely don’t want to think it. I finish spreading out the blanket in silence, focusing on keeping it straight. I feel Peeta’s eyes on me but just pat out the blanket. He makes the few short steps and collapses next to me.

“Thanks,” he sighs. And I know he is willing to let what I said slip away. Peeta stretches out with his strong arms folded back under his head, looking up at the canopy of trees above us.

We’re in a small clearing. But the trees that surround us are so large that their leaves still give ample shade. I rest my bow, arrows and the basket on the tree stump I normally sit on. I originally found this place when a few months back I had a panic attack where I blacked out for some time. When I came to, I was on the tree stump, the mocking jays were singing above me and there was a doe with her calf eating the plants across the way. There were so many sentimental reasons why I couldn’t shoot the doe but the calculating side of me said it was because I didn’t have Gale to help carry the body back. But after that peaceful moment, this clearing became my new spot.

We sit for awhile in silence enjoying the slight breeze. Then both of our stomachs grumble at the same time and we burst out laughing. We start eating what Peeta packed. All delicious and satisfying. If I was lucky enough to take food with me when I hunted it was to sustain me for long periods of time (aka a small tessera loaf and a very small amount of goat cheese). But now that we have the resources we can actually enjoy the food we consume rather than it being something to feel lucky to have.

Peeta sits against the stump, his hair shining in the dappled sunlight. I stretch out and place my head on his lap.

“That was delicious,” I say sucking the remnants of our lunch from my fingers. Peeta laughs and strokes his fingers through my hair.

“We’ve been like this before. Real or not Real?” He asks.

“Real, the day before the Quarter Quell. It was just you and me on top of the training center… on top of the world.” I respond closing my eyes, remembering how oddly peaceful it was.

“It was a good day right?” But the doubt in his voice is less of the Capitol poison and more of our history of me being less committed.

I sit up and pull his face close to mine, staring into those stormy eyes. “It was a perfect day,” I kiss him as passionately as I can. If words aren’t my strong suit then maybe kisses can be? He grabs me by the waist to hold me close. As my fingers tangle in his blonde locks, I lick his lips to grant me access. His mouth opens and I plunge my tongue deep inside tasting the last bits of our lunch and what I can only describe as Peeta. He circles his arms around my back pulling me closer. My breasts brush against his chest and at that slightest touch they tingle with arousal. I stop kissing for a moment to straddle him but to also look at him: hair ruffled, lips puffy and eyes full of passion. The arrogant side of me is immediately turned on that I caused that to happen.

I start grinding against him as our mouths join again. I rub my tits against his chest to get some friction on my nipples. His hands grab my bottom and begin to knead it slow and sensual in time to my body’s movement against him.

But our pants are not optimal for humping. I can barely get any of the much needed friction on my lower half and I know it must be just a terrible tease for Peeta. My hand slowly trails down his body and unzip his trousers. I let his member, only semi erect, sit in my hand, to feel the weight and the girth of him. Peeta drags his hand from my bottom and palms me after unbuttoning my own pants. He begins to apply leisurely circles over my clit as I languidly stroke him. Our lips break apart only slightly so that we’re panting into each other’s mouths. He slips a finger inside of me, making me gasp from deep within.

“You’re so wet!” He huffs.

“All for you” I pant back. With that he starts to pump his hand in and out of me very fast. The sensation feels so good I start losing focus on what I’m doing. My grip tightens and loosens on his erection without much thought. At some point, he unbuttons my shirt with his other hand and wiggles his face in-between my cleavage. As he sucks on a nipple, my hips jerk against his hand on their volition. My hands grasp his shoulders and my nails dig into his skin that I’m sure will leave a mark. I start seeing stars, all I know is that I’m begging Peeta not to stop.

When I come to, I’m slumped against his shoulder. Peeta’s hand is slowly caressing my back and I can feel his erection pressing into my stomach. I think to myself I could stay here forever, but the Mockingjays are making a stage shrieking noise. I sit bolt up.

“What is it?” Peeta asks concern etched over his face.

“The Mockingjays,” I reply, “I don’t recognize that sound. We should leave immediately.”

“Wait-wait” Peeta says stopping me from getting up, “I know what sound they’re imitating we don’t need to leave.”

“You do?!” I find it hard to believe Peeta would recognize a sound from the forest better than I would.

“Yeah,” Peeta shrugs sheepishly, “cause its you.” 

“What?!”

“They’re trying to copy the sound of you during our love making” Peeta grins thoroughly enjoying my abject horror. I listen carefully, its a two syllable tune that could easily come from me yelling PEETA when I orgasm.

I look around the canopy of leaves full of birds I can’t see, their trills mocking me. I burrow my face in Peeta’s chest to hide from the shame.

“It’s okay,” Peeta soothes me, “only we can hear them, and only we know what they mean.” But by the way his chest is quivering I can tell he’s trying hard not to laugh at me.

_Fine._ If he think’s it's so funny, let's see how much he likes it when they’re screaming his shouts. I scoot my way down his body avoiding looking in his eyes, pulling his pants completely off.

“Where are you go-“ he starts but stops when I kiss the tip of his member. I go incredibly slow just putting the tip in my mouth a couple of times. Then going to the base I stick out my tongue and lick him all the way up. He groans grabbing the blanket beneath him. After a few more licks, I begin to pump my mouth on him attempting to get his erection as wet as possible but also going slow enough to the way he likes it.

He weaves his fingers through my hair. And when I hollow my checks as I push him farther down my throat he begins to cry out. I strain my ears for the Mockingjays to pick up the new sound but they don’t. So I begin to suck with reckless abandon, his dick falling out of my mouth a couple of times in my ferocious need. Peeta is cursing, grunting and yelling as his fingers press onto my scalp helping me keep the right angle. Then I hear it. The fluttering of wings and I realize I went too far. Peeta is so loud with his moaning he’s scaring away the birds. I scowl up at him. His eyes are closed and his face is a perfect almost comical O.

While I’m disappointed my plan didn’t work, I’m proud that I can have this affect on him. I begin to rub my thighs together. I’m getting turned on watching his hips thrust toward my face. I can feel his body begin to quiver and I know he’s about to cum. Preparing my mouth to swallow his load whole his hands wrench my mouth from his dick.

“Wait!” He gasps, “I can’t- I want- I need to cum inside you.”

I only nod. My body is too frenzied to tease him that he was about to cum in me just a different part. Discarding my pants and shirt, I begin to crawl up over his lap. But his hand stops me again. His face is contorted in pain, and I assume it's from stopping just before he was about to have a glorious release.

“Can I be on top this time?” He asks. There’s a nervousness in his eyes I haven’t seen for awhile. I’m technically always on top, because of his leg. We tried it a couple of times with him on top but his prosthetic never gave him enough purchase for him to thrust accordingly, in frustration I always ended up flipping us, so I could ride him to oblivion. To be honest I prefer it that way. I’m in control, I set the pace. But another part, deep down inside that I haven’t really told myself is that when he’s under me he’s safe and can’t be put into any harms way. But he’s looking at me with his soft blue eyes. I could say no and he’d go along with it because he would never intentionally make me unhappy or do something I wouldn’t want to. But I also don’t know how we can do it.

“How?” I whisper. He explains that he thinks if I lay down at a certain angle on the picnic blanket he can hook his fake leg on the tree stump for balance and security. I show my consent by putting myself in the position on the blanket spreading my legs for him.

He curses at the view then scrambles over me, tearing off his shirt. His torso blocks my view, but I hear metal locking into something wooden. Peeta looks down at me. The intensity of his gaze: so full of love, lust, protectiveness, and ferocity sends a shiver down my body.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” I breathe, feeling my core seep with wetness. He takes his hand and guides his cock into me. We moan together at the sensation. He stays for a moment, letting us both get used to the feeling and the position. Then he leans down to plant a kiss on my lips and starts to move at a sensuously slow pace.

I wrap my legs around him. My hips rock in the rhythm of his thrusts pulling him deeper into me. My breasts rub up and down on his chest as he moves above me. The friction on my nipples burning me to my core.

When we’re no longer kissing but panting into each others mouths he lifts his head. He stares at me with a look of utmost affection and devotion and something else. And I realize I feel completely safe. His body is shielding me from the world. His strong rock hard arms on either side of me. And I trust him to be in total control of our bodies. I glance down to watch our hips meet. And in effect I know I’m protecting and supporting him too when he’s cradled between my legs.

“Peeta!” I gasp. He sees me and I see him. We are one. I put my hands in his soft blond hair, lightly pulling through the curly tendrils. My body begins to shake and I can feel my wall clamping down.

“Cum with me,” I beg. He groans bucking a few more times as his hand languidly reaches down to my clit to help me through my orgasm.

Then he collapses on me although he angles himself so it's not his full weight. I lie there completely sedated. Softly humming and gently running my hand over the back of his neck.

Nothing has changed at all and yet everything is different. We’re closer somehow and I didn’t think we could be. But Peeta knew or has known all along that we could feel this way. That we could be one.


End file.
